


Fructovorous

by sawbones



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age II
Genre: Body Worship, Footplay, Hedonism, Light D/s, M/M, Oral Sex, submissive sebastian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 09:59:57
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000446
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sawbones/pseuds/sawbones
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fenris is his General on the field; behind closed doors, he’s so much more.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fructovorous

**Author's Note:**

> Set in a world where Fenris accepts Seb's offer to come train his men in Starkhaven, and goes on from there.

It was dark and warm in the room; the curtains were drawn against the last light of a late summer evening, the only illumination coming from copper braziers in the corners. They burned low and fragrant – sandalwood, Sebastian assumed; it was a favourite of Fenris’. His bare feet made no sound on the carpeted floor, but by the twitch of his companion’s ears as he approached he knew he had been detected. He leaned against the back of the chaise-lounge where Fenris was elegantly sprawled with a book in his hand and a bowl of grapes in his lap, and kissed the crown of his head.

“What are you reading?” Sebastian asked, nuzzling into soft white hair. It was still slightly damp, fresh from a bath, “Something nice?”

“The History of the Elves of Arlathan,” Fenris said, checking the cover. He closed it and tossed it on the floor where it joined a heap of others, a sight that gave Sebastian some small glow of pride – he considered it a mark of progress, of how far Fenris had come, “Surprisingly boring considering it’s almost pure speculation.”

“That’s unfortunate. Perhaps...this will be more interesting?” Sebastian said as he pulled a delicate chain of silverite out of his pocket. It was as fine as silk and imbued with charms of strength and protection, and when he draped it around Fenris’s neck it caught the light and glittered like the ocean. The elf touched it thoughtfully and gave a hum of approval.

“A special occasion?”

“You deserve to be spoiled,” Sebastian said, half teasing. He leaned forward and plucked a grape from the bowl, letting his lips brush one of Fenris’ sensitive ears as he did, “Showered in gifts, wrapped in finery, fed fruit from the vine…”

Fenris tilted his head back, opened his mouth and let Sebastian press the grape to his tongue. He followed it with a kiss that was a little shy of chaste and laughed, low and airy. Sebastian released him, walked around the chaise-lounge and carefully knelt among the scattered books. The prince placed a hand on one of the elf’s bare foot and paused. Fenris’ brows twitched in amusement but he nodded, allowing Sebastian to continue.

“The Maker is good, and I am a man blessed many times of over,” Sebastian mused. He cradled Fenris’ foot in his lap as he began to gently massage it, “You remind me of that every day, and I would thank you for it in any way I can.”

Fenris watched with mild interest as strong archer’s fingers kneaded and stroked, always mindful of the lyrium lines. He flexed his toes against the laces of Sebastian’s breeches, and when blue eyes flickered up to meet his gaze, he smirked and ate another grape. Fenris was only wearing a short white robe of material so soft and fine that it was almost completely sheer, and it took real concentration for Sebastian to hold eye contact and not stare at where it was centimetres away from sliding off his shoulders, or how he could see the tattoos on his thighs glinting invitingly.

“I read the progress reports you sent me. Our army is the envy of nations, love, Starkhaven has never been stronger than with you as my general. We could march--”

“No. I don’t want to talk business in the bedroom, I’m not of a mood for it,” Fenris said, raising his leg to rest it playfully on Sebastian’s shoulder. From where he was kneeling, the prince could see the outline of the elf’s cock, nestled against his hip and not at all hidden by his robe. He swallowed thickly.

“Of course. Out there you’re my General; in here, you’re my companion--” he said, moving the leg and taking the foot in hand again. He pressed a kiss to its fine arch, “—my friend,” -- traced a line to his ankle, “—my confidant,” –pushed forward to chase kisses along his calf, “—my lover,” and finally settled with his mouth on his inner thigh, teasing with just a hint of teeth, “—my _equal_.”

Fenris’ eyes were dark and hooded; he carefully set aside the bowl of grapes and raised his hands to the silverite chain around his neck, then lightly dragged them down his chest to the silk sash that held his robe in place. He undid it slowly, agonisingly slowly, and parted the sheer fabric to reveal his arousal to Sebastian who sighed with want at the sight of it. However, when he leaned forward to eagerly take the length into his mouth he was stopped by strong fingers threaded through his hair, pulling him back slightly. He looked up, pleading for permission; Fenris smirked, giving it. He loosened the grip of Sebastian’s hair, guiding him down until wet tongue touched the tip of his cock and then let go.

Sebastian lavished every inch of him with attention, as thorough in sucking cock as he was with anything in his life. He kept his hands on Fenris’ thighs, holding them apart as he nuzzled down the side of the length, lapping wetly. He licked his way back up again to swirl his tongue almost teasingly around the head, before slowly and carefully taking as much of it into his mouth as he could. He pushed down, down until Fenris hit the back of his throat and he breathed through the urge to gag and cough, focusing only on firm flesh and velvet skin. It was almost intoxicating, it was so easy to simply close his eyes and let Fenris’ pleasure be the only thing in the world to think about; no armies, no wars, no politics, just the roll of his tongue and the faint tang of salt. 

There were hands on his head again, forcing him to look up; he couldn’t help the strangled moan that escaped him when he saw the hazy expression on Fenris’ face. His neck and cheeks were flushed, his chest fluttered with each heavy breath he took, his parted lips were wet where he hid licked or maybe bitten them. Sebastian wanted to kiss them until they were red and swollen, wanted to fuck him or be fucked by him, wanted everything at once because Maker he was beautiful and—

“Slow down, Sebastian,” Fenris said softly, in that deep gravelly voice that went straight to his cock. He forced himself to slow down, to let the hands in his hair – not pulling, just holding – control the pace. He was rocked in deep, languid strokes that pushed as far down his throat as possible until his nose was crushed against the elf’s hard stomach and gradually pulled back again. Sometimes Fenris would hold him there, unable to breathe until he could feel his own pulse beating against the inside of his skull and tears pricked at his eyes, but he always knew when to let him go before it ever got too much. As a reward for his trust and service, a dexterous foot squirmed its way between Sebastian’s legs like it had earlier, pressing firmly against his neglected erection; he ground against it desperately, nearly choking as the groan that escaped him interrupted his pattern of breathing. 

“Undo your laces, pull them down.”

Sebastian had already done it by the time Fenris had even finished giving the command, taking himself in hand, almost shaking with relief. Fenris chuckled and pushed his hand away with his foot; he rubbed his sole against his leaking cock, carefully, slowly, and Sebastian had to bite his tongue to stop himself from moaning out loud. It should have been impossible for someone who never wore shoes to have skin so soft, but so little about Fenris made perfect sense and it was just another thing to love about him. He let his lover toy with him with as much patience as he could muster, though it was certainly no chore to lean back and savour the short languid strokes. He bit his lip to stop the embarrassing whimpers that threatened to spill from his throat, and screwed his eyes shut.

“You’re close,” Fenris said, and it wasn’t a question. Sebastian exhaled sharply and nodded, his hips twitching after a particularly firm grind of his foot, “Finish yourself, then finish me. Take your time.”

Sebastian gave an unexpected huff of laughter at Fenris’ casual, nearly flippant tone but didn’t hesitate to obey him. He stroked himself quickly, firmly, holding Fenris’ elegant foot against himself to use almost as he wanted; for anyone else it might have been degrading but for him it was nothing but pleasure - bright, hot and reverent. With a few pulls, he came over his clenched fingers, careful to not spill a drop on his lover’s clean bronze skin. It took him a few moments to gather his wits again as he breathed through the sensation of suddenly unravelling, his eyes closed and his mouth slack and shuddering. 

When Sebastian blinked back into focus, Fenris was waiting. Fingers twitched, beckoning him forward, and Sebastian didn’t hesitate to go to him. His hands slid up strong, lean thighs again but Fenris’ stayed where they were, not guiding him this time; Sebastian almost missed it, but didn’t let that feeling show as he swallowed him to the root with relative ease. With his edge of desperation tempered it was easier for him to control himself, coaxing every low bitten-off noise of pleasure out of his lover that he could. Fenris rocked his hips with every low rumbling moan, shameless and open as Sebastian stopped trying to match his rhythm and simply let him fuck his mouth. In a few thrusts, he grabbed Sebastian – not by the hair, but by the hand resting against his thigh – and came in waves down his throat. 

Sebastian’s soft cock gave a half-hearted throb of interest as he swallowed everything; he almost wished he had met Fenris in his wild youth so a night spent rutting was a promise, not a wistful memory. Still, he knew better than to want that for real; had he met Fenris then, he wouldn’t have appreciated him for what he was. He would have let him slip right through his fingers for little more than a memorable evening. Above him, Fenris made a lazy come-hither motion with his hands, encouraging Sebastian to crawl up onto the chaise-lounge with him. The furniture certainly wasn’t made for two, but the slightly discomfort was worth it to take advantage of Fenris in a rare pliant mood. After a few ungainly moments of adjusting their positions, he finally settled with his head resting on his chest, fingers carding through his hair in a steady rhythm, and thanked the Maker for every heartbeat he counted.


End file.
